


Wilted

by stateofintegrity



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:43:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25571530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofintegrity/pseuds/stateofintegrity
Summary: MASH has multiple episodes that deal with impotence, so it felt right to tackle it for the 4077th's newest surgeon.
Relationships: Maxwell Klinger/Charles Emerson Winchester III
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

Certain ailments had a way of cycling through MASH 4077: dysentery, lice, bed bugs, malaria. Newcomer to the unit, Major Charles Emerson Winchester III would never had expected _impotence_ to make the list... but why would anything in this terrible place make any kind of sense - medical or otherwise?

And because Winchester was not Pierce, he didn’t blurt his problem out to his CO over horseshoes. He just suffered and researched in obscure medical journals for the effects of stress on arousal (not good, it turned out) and hoped things would look _ up _ . 

And they  _ did  _ … just not exactly in the manner in which he might have wished. 

Klinger didn’t typically change for surgery since he didn’t perform the stuff, but triage had left him blood-soaked to his skivvies… if he’d been wearing skivvies. Walking into the scrub room, Charles found him in something far lacier, far more beribboned … something that was now pink with blood and wasn’t that a shame, really, and  _ what the hell is happening below my belt?  _

It had been so long that the sensation was half miracle and half unsettling- and 100% terrifying.  _ Can’t be. This is a coincidence. A medical anomaly. There are articles written about this.  _

To comfort himself, he yelled at Klinger, scrubbed up as if to remove his skin, and went in to surgery.

***

By the next day, Charles had convinced himself that the incident with Klinger had been a fluke. Maybe his capabilities were simply refreshed after having briefly stalled. There was no medical basis for this belief, but it comforted him as he tried to enjoy a rare day off. 

Then Klinger showed up. He appeared in something tight and slinky and Charles just knew that he had something on under it that would be really, really fun to remove slowly… and  _ hell and high water. High something, anyway.  _ He rose up again. Hoping to defend himself against this very unexpected stab of lust he said, “Go away, you frilly thing.” 

“Well, fine. Somebody else can deliver your mail.”

“Give me that!” 

Klinger flitted out of reach, his skirt flaring to reveal his slip. “Not until you compliment me. You’re in such a mood today, Major,” he teased. 

“It is not  _ today.  _ It is twenty-seven days. And I have enough problems without shoring up your self esteem.” 

“Twenty-seven? That’s kinda specific, sir.” He perched on the edge of Charles’ cot. “How come?” 

Charles gritted his teeth and tried to recite, internally, the notes of his favorite symphony as a way of killing the very desire he’d once wanted rekindled so badly. “Nothing. Never mind.” 

“If it’s nothing, I’ll just hang on to this letter from your sister. She says to stop being so boring.” 

_ My crotch has recently acquired a roller coaster, dear sister _ ,  _ but I do not think such topics are appropriate for your eyes _ . “Klinger, strangling you would delight me on a good day. Today, it might prove a therapeutic practice. Do not tempt me.” 

Klinger neither left the cot nor handed over the letter. “Kinky, Major. Didn’t know that was how you ran, sir.” 

Pretending that he couldn’t see the lacy edge of a slip peeking out from beneath his skirt in so artful way that it would have made a pin-up gal blush, Charles stifled a groan. “As far as  _ you  _ are concerned, I do not  _ run  _ at all - and  _ we  _ do not talk.” 

The look Klinger shot him then wasn’t pitying, exactly, but it was a near thing. “Maybe that’s your problem.” He lowered his voice then, a completely atypical move for Maxwell Klinger. “You gotta, y’know, pleasure yourself once in awhile. Maybe that’s why you’re so tense, Major.” 

“Please. Stop. Talking.” 

Though Charles often insulted his intelligence, Klinger wasn’t stupid. He’d heard the neediness underneath Charles’ anger the other day. And he could put two and two together. “That your problem, sir? Has it been a month?” 

“What kind of gypsy magic is this!?” the surgeon cried. 

That pitying look came back to that sharp angled face. “No magic. I just know what I get like when it’s been a while. You’re edgy, beautiful.” 

The endearment usually would have made him rage, but somehow what came out of his mouth was some awful and inexplicable thing between a laugh and a sob. “ _ Edgy _ ? What I am is frantic. And unnerved.” 

Klinger reached out and tiptoed his fingers up the other man’s sensitive wrist. “I’m frantic and unnerved and terrified pretty much always. How can I help?” 

Charles pried his fingers off. “By leaving.”  _ And sending pictures _ . The Major had heard that the late Henry Blake (God rest his soul) had kept a picture of Klinger in his wallet- possibly as a joke, possibly because he’d confiscated it to keep it out of the hands of a general - and Charles wondered if there were copies in the office somewhere. 

“How will that help at all? You gotta talk through this stuff. I’ll listen.”

“I’m a diagnostician, Klinger. I’ve already said everything to myself.” 

Klinger rolled his dark, pretty eyes and Charles wondered if he could get a pass to Tokyo because he clearly  _ needed _ a CAT scan because he apparently now thought that  _ Klinger’s eyes were pretty.  _ How very terrifying. “In medical terms? What’s so sexy about a textbook?” 

Charles sighed. “That I will regret this, I do not doubt, but into exactly what terms would you translate my, ah, predicament?” 

“What terms are you looking for, Major? I can tell you how badly I want to get on my knees and suck your cock. Does that help?” 

Charles gripped the arms of the chair until his fingers went white. “Do you always speak in so vulgar a manner?” 

“Not usually out loud. Why? Want me to keep going?” His eyes raked over Winchester’s form, clearly curious to discover if he was helping and - Charles was almost certain of it - admiring. 

Everything in his body screamed  _ yes _ . 

Klinger smiled. This was turning into a very interesting day. “You wanna see the motions too or just hear the words?”

“Diagnostics  _ is _ words, Corporal. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” 

He had forgotten how long Klinger had been working in a hospital. “So, just a diagnosis then? No cure? That doesn’t sound right, sir.” 

_ Oh, you’ve already been quite the  _ **_cure_ ** _ , pretty pet. I just wish I knew  _ **_why_ ** _. _

Klinger came to stand before him. “I think about it all the time, you know. Being on my knees for you. I bet I could fit under that desk of yours, Major. You could be writing your letters to Boston, trying to get that head surgeon job and I could be under there with your cock in my mouth.” 

“Do you frequently try to fit yourself beneath things in this manner?”  _ God, you make me ache. Where did  _ **_that_ ** _ come from?  _

“I’d love to get under you. Unless you wanna go for day twenty-eight? Twenty-nine? A whole month?” 

“I’d really rather not.”

“Well? Gimme a sign, sweetheart. I’m getting cold.” 

Charles pushed his skirt up. “Handmade?”

“Of course. Look at that stitching!”

He leaned in to look, pressed a kiss to his thigh. “Exquisite.” _Like you_.   


“Feeling better?” 

“A little, yes.”

“Just a little, huh? You’re the doctor, Major. Wanna tell me where it hurts or should I guess?” 

Charles stifled a whine. “Let’s see what you’ve, ah, picked up.” 

_ A Major with a sexy accent and the ability to beg with his eyes,  _ Klinger thought. 

Moving lightly, he somehow- Charles really was confounded by the mechanics - knelt on his lap, balanced there, skirt swishing, and looked right into his eyes. What he saw, however, made his heart hurt. “You’re really scared of this, aren’t you?” 

Charles wanted to tell him he was being absurd. He was a grown man! Of course he wasn’t afraid of sex! But of feeling nothing? And now feeling everything  _ for Klinger _ ? It was unsettling. 

Klinger slid down. “It’s okay, Major. I won’t say anything else. I’m used to going back and forth with you… but I sure didn’t mean to scare you.” He looked hopeful a moment, like he wanted to add something, but decided against it and turned to go. 

“You weren’t… Klinger, were you  _ joking _ ?” This was more frightening than the unexpected desire he had discovered. 

“If that’s what you wanted me to be doing, sure, Major.” 

As answers went, this one was less than satisfying. “Klinger, I  _ want _ you to speak plainly. When you said you think about… us… often - was that the truth?”

It got the slighter man to turn, anyway. “You couldn’t tell?” 

“You scheme as easily as you breathe,” Charles reminded him. 

“Not with my heart, sir.” 

“I don’t recall it being mentioned.”

“What kinda girl do you take me for, Major? I wouldn’t have said the other stuff if I didn’t…” something in him slammed on the brakes then- hard. He shook off this moment of madness. “I hope you find somebody to make you feel better real soon, sir.”  _ Somebody you aren’t afraid to touch.  _ “I should go.” 

Winchester realized something in that moment that should have been impossible. “Maxwell, are you seeking,”  _ in that unique way you have about you,  _ “to  _ protect me? _ ”  _ And, if so, are you doing so at great cost to your own heart?  _

“I guess, Major. I… I mean, you’re the person here I like best.” He looked down as if he feared being scolded for this kindness. Considering the admissions he had already made, Winchester found this deeply curious… and kind of adorable. “I want you to be well, sir. And happy.”  _ Even if there’s no place for me.  _

Charles stood and took his hand. “Maxwell, lives have been built on less.”

“I don’t understand, sir.” 

“Before, you were about to say something. While I may be mistaken, I think those words would have concerned your heart. Am I right in my assumptions?”

Klinger continued to look at his feet but he nodded. “Yeah, but I already upset you once today, Major. Dunno if I want to go double or nothing.” 

“Do you think me such a cad, Maxwell, that I would ask you to speak words that I would then turn against you?” He stroked his fingertips as he spoke. 

Klinger shivered. 

“Come, Max, be brave for me.”

_ Keep saying my name, sir, and I’ll be whatever you want _ . Although his intelligence was of a different type than Charles’, Klinger was very bright and he intuited that the Major’s confidence (and maybe other things) was growing alongside his own shyness. Dipping his dark head, he kissed the surgeon’s fingers. Eyes closed, he whispered, “I do love you, Major.” 

A wish for love, wellness and happiness … it was more than anyone else had ever offered him. How could he not be won? “Show me?” 

The Corporal did - sweetly, fiercely, patiently - and over and over again. When he had recovered a bit, Charles repaid his attentions and returned his love. 

“Better, now?” Klinger asked afterward. 

“Like new,” Charles promised, grateful that, in this, at least, some part of his body had known the truth about Klinger right off - even if it had taken the rest of him a moment to catch up. 

Klinger traced the lines of his palm and stroked his wrist. “I’ll help you make up for the other twenty-six days, too,” he promised. 

“I shall look forward to that, but Max, you do understand that I want you for all the days after, yes?” 

“I was hoping.” 

Charles held him tight. Even this was enough to spark new desire in him. Feeling it, Klinger giggled at him, proud and happy at the effect he had. He slipped his fingers down below his waistband to encircle him. 

“You don’t have to,” Charles began, embarrassed at his lack of control. 

“I started it. Lemme finish it. Let me finish  _ you _ .”

Charles surrendered everything to him. And whatever else anyone else struggled with as the war rolled on, that particular withering, humiliating problem never returned to trouble Charles Emerson Winchester III ever again.

End! 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The same story, with the roles reversed ;)

When Maxwell Klinger entered the Swamp on a sultry evening with wild eyes, Charles Emerson Winchester III marked his place in  _ The Moonstone.  _ He had little skill in reading others most of the time, but odds were good that Klinger’s unexpected arrival was predicated on a scheme. A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth; burlesque wasn’t his preferred form of entertainment, necessarily, but Klinger’s stitchwork sometimes kept him in stitches... at least his performances while wearing it did. 

And looking at him with the wide, almost helpless, eyes of the prodigal son in Murillo’s painting, it seemed that Klinger intended that the opening line of their little evening drama should belong to him. 

“Corporal.” He nodded his head in a greeting. “I trust you will forgive the observation, but you are shaking and it isn’t cold. What have you gone and done to yourself?” 

Klinger gave a wry look at that. The simple fact was that, for the last several days, nothing he’d done to himself had yielded the smallest response. He was done in. The army had broken one of the very best parts of him. He confided as much to the surgeon and watched as a look of horror came over the other man’s patrician face. 

“I’m going to die, aren’t I? This is some rare foreign thing and there’s no cure, right?”

Charles didn’t answer, still processing. 

The truth of the matter (and it wasn’t a truth he even liked to tell himself) was that Winchester had fallen hard for the plucky Corporal in pearls. There were plenty of reasons that ought to have disqualified Klinger from his fantasies, but every time he tried to explore them his hands sent back the firm message that they didn’t care; they just wanted to  _ touch  _ Max. The compromise he’d found was to spare Klinger his clumsy attentions (didn’t someone so pretty deserve better?) and stick to sighing over him in the dark. 

Taking his silence as an attempt to find a way to break it to him gently, Klinger started to ruminate on his soon to be left behind creations. “Can I borrow some paper, sir?”

“For what?”

“My will. Who do you think is close enough to my size here?” 

_ Why do your theatrics and antics inspire such warmth in me, Max? In anyone else I would find them ridiculous, but they just make me love you more.  _

Maxwell’s distress was actually visible in his clothing, which had clearly been donned hastily and was crooked on his frame. Charles devoutly wished he was brave enough to smooth it into place. “My dear, I have already explained that this is a medical condition brought on by stress.“

“You did not! You can’t just make stuff up, Major. I’m not stupid, you know.”

“Forgive me. I, ah, I explained it in my head.”’

Klinger was still frantic. “Well, excuse me, Major, if I can't hear your thoughts. Also I don't think  _ stressing me out _ is going to help  _ cure me,  _ so maybe try to tell me things out loud?” 

“My intention was not to cause you distress. Some matters simply fall outside of the boundaries of my expertise.” 

Klinger wasn’t having it. “You’re a doctor!”

“Indeed. But a rather, ah, celibate one.” 

“Me too. Up to and including myself.”

Winchester forced himself not to laugh. When he had mentioned his state, it included himself, too. Several hours of surgery made him wince at the idea of manual manipulation (even of the pleasant variety); his hands simply hurt too much. “I know the, ah, feeling. You will be fine, Klinger. OR has been brutal as of late. Once things calm, you will be your usual self again.” He wondered if he might convince Potter to give Klinger a reprieve from carrying men across that killing floor for a few nights. They shouldn’t punish the man for his competence as a corpsman. 

Klinger curled into himself on the edge of a chair. “What if I’m not?” 

That small voice almost did Charles in. Klinger was never shy. “You will be,” he promised. “But you might speed things along with a little help. Say a business girl?” 

His eyes tried to look at his mouth as if to confirm what he had just said. 

_ I do love you...  _ he realized then,  _ enough to cede your beauty to undeserving arms if it will make you sound less miserable... and is not love a truly  _ **_horrible_ ** _ and  _ **_stupid_ ** _ state in which to exist _ ? 

Dark, annoyed eyes fixed on his. “Major!! Don’t you know me any better than that?” 

_ Oh. Well, yay, I suppose _ , he thought, disloyally, but he shrugged as if he had no stakes in whom this pretty young man bedded. “If easing your stress does not help you, I lack another solution to give you. Stress is the cause of this problem, but I lack the power to transport you to a place where you would once more feel calm.”

But wouldn’t he love to try? An army cot was a study in misery, an almost medieval rack, but he would still relish the chance to hold Klinger in one. He would bring the covers down over them if Max would allow it, making a hideaway undisturbed and off-limits to the thumping whoosh of chopper blades. In that warm, secret pocket, he would rub the Corporal’s back, ease the tension from his neck, and use up every bit of magic in his knowing hands to make him want to stay. 

Klinger gave him a hopeful look - the kind a child might give a parent when he’d found an injured bird, the kind that said,  _ You can fix anything, though, right _ ? “Can’t you pretend I’m a patient? If this is a stress thing, I can’t be the only person over here to have it happen, right? You don’t tell your patients: ‘sorry, kid, hopefully this clears up when you hit California' do you?” 

He did not... but the truth was this, “Max, I would advise a patient as I have advised you: calm down and then enlist someone to patiently, ah, see to you. To do any more would be malpractice.” 

Klinger sighed pitifully. “You’re something else, Major. I'm dying here and you're talking lawsuits!? Do I look like I could sue you if I tried?“

“Your costumes and emotions are better suited to the stage than the courtroom, or so I have always believed. What solution would you have of me?” 

“You went to medical school, not me. But do something or I'm going for a long walk in the minefield.”

An idea did come to him then. “I can try and get you R&R in Tokyo. Would that help?”

“If you think I'll be alive by the time the Colonel tries to send through the paperwork and I Corps sends it back with a denial stamp, sure.”

“Alright, will you settle for a temporary distraction? If you wish, I will play audience to a trunk show of your signature collection - would that serve?”

Klinger now had many questions. “How do you know what a trunk show is?”

“I have a fashionable sister whom I escort, well, most anywhere she instructs, honestly. I have stood at the side of many a runway. This amuses you, I take it?”

“Just a new side of you, sir.” He imagined Charles being ordered about by a lovely younger sibling and was quite taken with the image. “But how’d you know to suggest something like that?”

“I know what your designs mean to you. I have even written of them to Honoria on occasion.” 

“Gee, thanks, Major. That’s a real shot in the arm. I do sketches, you know, if she would like that.”

“I was not aware, but I am certain she would attend them with the same delighted scrutiny she applies to her catalogues.”

“You pay for all of them, huh? You’re a good brother, Major.”

Charles wished he was a braver man. He might have explained that he was a flawed but earnest brother who tried very hard... but he thought he might make a really good boyfriend if the opportunity presented itself. For now, he could at least prove himself an attentive observer and hope it earned him a measure of goodwill while helping Klinger to forget his troubles. “Shall we, then?” 

“Okay.” More quietly, he added, “Thanks.” 

Walking beside him, Charles was able to gauge just how upset the Corporal had allowed himself to become over his current predicament; Max remained almost  _ shaky _ . And though none of this was about him at all, Charles couldn’t help but say, “I am surprised, you know, that you brought this to me rather than the Captains.” 

“They’d just treat me like a kid. And no matter which one I told, the other one’d find out about it.”

Charles was unaccustomed to being preferred for, well, anything. “You trust me to keep your confidences?” 

“Sure. Doesn’t gossip spread real fast in rich people society? Figured you’d know what it’s like.”

Oh, did he ever. All it took was one rumor. A single hint. It was like adding a drop of red ink to a vase of white camellias; all of the sudden everything was pink, pink pink. He thought, in that moment, about telling Klinger why he was unmarried so late in life but bit his tongue. 

“You okay, Major? Your face went kinda white there.”

_ I am sure. Memories of electric shock will have that effect.  _ “Yes. You are most welcome to confide in me.” 

Klinger barked a short laugh. “Told you the worst stuff already.” 

“And I told you it’s a common medical problem brought on by stress. Nothing to conjure shame in you.” They passed into the Corporal’s tent. “And if that was but the worst, temporary as I assure you it is, might I inquire as to the rest?” 

“Geez, Major,” he mumbled. “Maybe the skirts and stuff aren’t just a joke, okay?” 

“It never occurred to me to think that they were.” 

Klinger looked at him so hard and so long Charles thought he might get a headache. “How come? No one else thinks that - not even when I tell ‘em so.” He thought of Sid. 

“In service of a mere con, you would eschew such dainty, difficult stitch work.” 

Klinger brightened. “How do you know about my stitches!?”

“As a surgeon, I know impeccable stitch work when I see it.” 

“Huh. Nobody else ever noticed it.”

Charles made a dismissive sound. “The others are all too worried about their next rendezvous.”

“You don't want a rendezvous or two, Major? I bet there are plenty of nurses who would go with you.” 

“I am not inclined to nurses,” Charles said then, quite without thinking.

“Not high class enough?” Klinger (mercifully) guessed. 

“Quite.”

But those dark eyes shined, teasing him. “Liar.” 

“Klinger, I am acting as your physician. How does my embarrassment calm you?”

“I enjoy knowing things. Not knowing makes me anxious. So spill.” 

“Damn it, Klinger... there is no cure for your problem in my problems.”

“It could de-stress me. Isn’t that what I need?”

Charles sighed. “Would you settle for a massage?”

“Nope. C’mon, I can keep a secret.”

“Now who’s lying?” 

“Hey, I kept the dresses thing a secret from everyone but you.”

Charles arched an eyebrow. “Was it truly a secret if I’d already figured it out?” But Klinger’s eyes urged him on. The physician sighed, then mumbled, “I-do-not-desire-people-with-whom-I-have-no-connection.” 

“What’s so secret about that? Who does?” 

“... literally everyone else in camp …”

Klinger shook his head. “Not the Colonel. Not Radar when he was here. Not me.”

“Fine.  _ Nearly  _ everyone else in camp. And I believe Corporal O’Reilly had a dalliance or two while here. Klinger, do I strike you as someone who connects easily to others? Father Mulcahy outpaces me in romance in this place.”

“You and I have a pretty good connection I think. Plus, the father’s heart is pure. Of course people love him.” 

_ We do, do we? How good, I wonder?  _ “You have a good heart yourself, Max. One notices these things as a thoracic surgeon.” 

The distressed Corporal heard something in his voice - or thought he did. “You should probably check it, shouldn’t you? Since you’re taking care of me.”

_ You have  _ **_no idea_ ** _ how much I wish to take care of you _ . Charles acquiesced; he had his stethoscope. “Your heart is a tad fast, Corporal. Were you aware?” 

Klinger had forgotten that Charles in a professional capacity was hell on his heart… and on some other things. He was well aware that his heart was racing. He had a pretty good idea why, too. 

And Charles lifted his eyes, moved them slowly and carefully over the Corporal’s flushed face. “Max, you said you felt like you were dying when you enlisted my help. How are you feeling right now?”

“Little lightheaded I gotta be honest with ya.” 

_ Good. Keep feeling that _ . Forgoing the stethoscope, Charles leaned down to listen. It was a trespass, but it wasn’t exactly something he could do in any other setting.

“Never seen you do that in Post Op, sir.”

Charles decided to roll the dice. “I have never had such a pretty patient.”

“I really like to be called that.”   


“You don’t hear it enough? A lapse, I am sure.”

Klinger held back a whine. “What’s enough?”

“Enough is when you feel it is enough.”  _ Dear heart.  _

“There's some stuff, Major... I don't think I'll ever have enough of. Being warm. Feeling somebody else close to me.”

_ Dear, brave one.  _ “Maxwell, if you would consent to permit it, I would try to provide those things to you. Indeed,” he cleared his throat, fighting emotion, “I would try to provide anything and everything you wished.  _ Be _ anything you wished.”

Klinger’s eyes were very wide and nearly starry in their brightness. “Just like that?”

Charles blushed; declarations were not his forte. “Consider it a part of my secret.”

“Me?”

“I would not have noticed just anyone’s stitching.” He stopped to correct himself. “Well, Honoria’s, I suppose, which is nowhere near as pretty as yours. Do not tell her I said so, of course.”

“Never,” Klinger promised. “She's probably nice like you so if you let me meet her I wouldn't upset her.”

Charles laughed at the novelty; no one ever called him nice. “My dear, you and Honoria will get on like wildfire. My hands will be quite full dealing with the two of you, I’m sure.”

Max came closer, bumping their knees together. “Hey, you mean it? She’d like me?”  _ You like me?!? This is real? _

“Oh, kitten, she’d throw me on the stoop for you in a second.”

Seeming not to register the cutesy nickname he had acquired, Klinger sought further information, impressed that the Major seemed to have thought these things out. “How come?”

“I am her brother.” He leaned forward to kiss the younger man’s nose. “You are a gem. And Honoria has impeccable taste.” 

Klinger smiled at the stuff about taste - and about the kiss. “But you're the best brother right?” 

“As her  _ only  _ brother, I suppose I am both the best and the worst.”

“But you looked out for her, huh?”

“Did no one look out for you, my dear?”

“My cousins tried, but I was pretty scrappy.”

Charles took his hand. “Perhaps you will allow me to take over where they left off? Scrappy or not, a warzone is no place for your figure.”

Hoping it might work in his favor, Klinger reminded him, “I could fit into those society dresses even without the corsetry, you know.”

“Don’t give me such visions, dear one.”

“I mean, I’ve got the corsetry, don't get me wrong, but I don’t need it.”

“ _ I _ may need it, some time, when you feel like dressing up.”

“I always feel like dressing up, Major. Trunk show, remember?”

“Even in your current straits?”

“Well, if I don’t have a working cock, I can at least feel pretty in my skirts,” the Corporal rationalized with a wink.

Charles choked on absolutely nothing at all. “So vulgar, darling?”

“If you wanna take the time to teach me how to say that proper, you can. Or I could just put on my skirts for you.”

Charles decided to let it go. Hadn’t he just said this was a warzone? He could survive vulgar. Pale and dignified and incapable of hiding the depths of his desire, he watched, trying not to blink, as Klinger shucked his clothing and stood in the lingerie du jour. “What do you want to see first, Major?”

“I defer to the creator,” Charles managed. 

Changing, Klinger brought his - really, rather elaborate - costume, right into his lap. 

Charles kissed the line of his neck, breathing in the smell of him - woodsmoke and burnt vanilla, something spice-bright that he wanted on his tongue. “You are quite sure you are up to this, love?”

Sensing that the surgeon was taking comfort in the badinage that typically characterized their conversations, Klinger made a frustrated sound at him. “Was that a joke, Major?”

Charles looked up, showed him eyes that were as mischievous as they were pretty and as delighted as they were teasing. “A tiny one, perhaps.”

Klinger wished he had his fan to slap the man. “You can be really cruel, you know. I hope they make you do my eulogy. At least it will get a few laughs.”

He tried to keep frowning as Charles drew him in to kiss him, saying against his sweet mouth, “No one dies by a soft sword, Max.”

Slipping his nylons off in a move that was enticingly acrobatic, Klinger used them in place of a fan, swatting the sassy surgeon. “So much for looking after me, Major. Quit taking potshots and tell me I’m pretty.”

Charles left off teasing then to trace from his hips to his shoulders. “Darling, can you not feel me shaking?”

Max could. 

“You’re saying that’s over me? This isn’t even my best stuff.”

“Though I admire your skill with a needle, it is  _ you _ I am in love with, Maxwell. I assure you that you have made me tremble in fatigues as well as in your signature creations - and I suspect that you always will.”

Klinger experienced a different sort of frustration then. That voice saying those kind of things… he should have been halfway finished by the words alone. But Charles just linked his hands around his waist. “You said that you appreciated the feel of someone close to you. We would be hard pressed to be much closer. Close your eyes. Just feel.”

Klinger could feel rather a lot - and he smiled into the Major’s shoulder. “Hoping to make me feel uplifted, sir?”

“Loved, rather, but if you think I am capable of propriety with you in my arms, you overestimate my strength.” 

Suddenly, Klinger felt less like dressing up than he had for the entirety of his stint in the Far East. He stroked the older man’s neck, caught the thin curls and buried his fingers in them. Charles tilted his head, kissed his wrists in the purest sort of admiration Klinger had ever seen, let alone experienced. 

“Major?”

“Yes, Corporal darling?”

“Can we table the trunk show for tonight?” 

“Of course.” He kissed into his neck. “I am yours to command, my pretty one.” 

“I, uh, I don’t think I can get in on it, since I’m dying and all… but I could keep you warm.” 

“Darling, holding you is enough. You needn’t push yourself for me. I will be here.” 

“Be here. Get closer, sir. Please.” 

“The bed then, Maxwell. Nice and slow.” The last words were a promise. 

Maxwell looked him in the eyes as Charles stood with him in his arms. When Charles knelt by his knees, Klinger hooked his fingers in the covers. Charles kissed the side of his knee. “You look like you are about to be tortured, dear one.” He stroked soft thighs, flicked his tongue against them. 

“Major, I can’t. I  _ can’t  _ .” 

“I am not asking. Do not strain. Do not fight for it. Just let me taste you.” 

A low, surprised moan broke from his lips. “You can’t… I didn’t know you could talk that way.”

“Only to you. And only if you like it.” 

“Your voice…  _ fuck _ , Major.” 

“You never said.” His eyes were wide, too innocent. 

“You never needed me to.” He mumbled something under his breath. 

“What was that, pretty girl?”

Klinger whined. “Don’t do that.” 

Charles licked up his thigh again. “This?” 

Klinger flung himself back dramatically, costume flaring with the motion. “I can’t fight you. Do whatever you want.”

“Tell me what you said, Max.”

His name came out Ma-aah-ax - sweet, soft, sing-song. It was every bit as affecting as that “pretty girl” stuff. “Fuck,” he swore again, softly. “Artichoke hearts, Charles.” 

“Code word?” 

“It… I don’t know the fancy name for it. The way you say ‘a’s,’ like that. It gets to me. Big time.” 

Charles changed positions to kiss his cheeks, his nose. “Your dandelion skirt does as much to me.” 

“I don’t have a skirt with dandelions on it.”

“The color, darling.”

“Oh. Really?” He looked up, happy and hopeful. “I.. I can wear it for you. Next time.” 

Charles knew what he wanted and caught his lips.  _ There will be a next time, Max. There will be a  _ **_lifetime_ ** _ if I have my way.  _ He kissed his dear one’s fingertips before asking, “Be a sweet girl and make me a handkerchief of the same color?”

Klinger’s eyes filled with fireworks. “You want us to  _ match _ ?” 

“I have always believed we made a rather handsome set.” He laughed at Klinger’s absolutely perfect expression. “I should have known,” he cuddled against him, “that talk of fashion would trump my own meager attributes, my lovely.” He kissed him on the forehead. “So, saddened as I am to take second seat to satins and sequins, let me make you happier, yet. If it pleases you, pretty pet, you may sew your lace to my underthings so that we match right down to the skin - my soul has been sewn to your boot soles - and your stilettos - from the first.” 

Klinger could see it - little hearts or roses made of trimmings to cue Charles in to what treats he would find when he unbuttoned his shirt or lifted his skirts. 

“That was a very pretty noise,” Charles purred, kissing his throat. And Klinger kept being pretty. Kept  _ sounding  _ pretty. And asked Charles to make him his. Sweet, slow, gentle - Charles took every precaution, showed him every care. “That’s it, that’s it,” he praised him. “Just stay with me.”

“Nice and slow, baby,” Klinger welcomed him, reminded him. Charles wrapped an arm around his waist, held him in place, and used the other to grip his own shaft. 

Max grabbed him around the shoulders, rocked with him. He kissed his neck, licked a line to his ear. Klinger burrowed into his throat, made birdlike sobbing sounds close against him. “ _ Charles  _ …”

Then he yelped. 

“Welcome back, Maxwell.” 

“Shh, Major. Shh. You’ll scare it. And if you do that before I get off, I’ll have to break up with you.” 

Their laughter collided in the air as Charles took him in hand. “A little credit, please. What do you think I’ve been working towards? I will get you where you wish to go.” 

He sounded so incredibly confident - so much a Winchester - that Klinger half felt like holding back just to take him down a peg… but only for a second. “...wish you could know what you’ve got me feeling, baby,” he confided to his lover.

Charles could see and appreciate the effects - those pupils blown and helpless, the way Klinger arched and moved for him, the soft sounds that rewarded every right thing - and they had him making a very real effort to hold off his own peak. “That’s my girl,” he praised the lithe, androgynous form in his arms, “Maxwell, please.  _ Please _ .” 

No one had ever pleaded  _ for _ Klinger’s pleasure. 

No one had ever said his name like that. 

And no one had ever laughed for joy to feel him losing it for them. 

He surfaced, lashes beating hard, pulse still thrashing. “Did you just… did you?”

“Merely from watching you, my dear.” His cheeks were pink, his expression gently abashed. He pressed his lips to Klinger’s dark hair, breathed him in as if the scent of him would enter and heal every broken place in him, diffused through his lungs into his blood. “No one has ever,” he whispered, “undone me so thoroughly as you.”

Klinger gave him a wicked little smile that very much said that he was feeling a good deal better. “You know I put a seamstress’s mark in all my stuff, right, Major?”

“I did not.”

“That look on your face? Those feelings? That’s my mark, baby. You’re stuck with me, now.”

“Good. If you had not wished to keep me, I would have bargained to keep  _ you _ . I did just prove rather restorative, after all. You cannot be calling a doctor every time you feel a bit, ah, depressed.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Klinger shoved at him, both annoyed and amused by this teasing; Charles was going to remain his best friend, it seemed, with all that said friendship entailed. “Easier to make house calls if we share the house.” 

“I very much look forward to finding a home for all of your creations, darling. The extant ones and the ones you will dream up.”

“I love you, too, Major.” 

And freed from the stress that had plagued him and the pretty stitches that had adorned him, Maxwell curled into the arms of his new lover, knowing that whatever stressors Korea presented with him, he would have this safety to return to. 

End! 

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
